Frosty the Snowman - A Retelling

I suppose it all started with the snow. You see, it was a very special kind of snow. A snow that made the happy happier, and the giddy even giddier. A snow that’d make a homecoming homier, and natural enemies, friends, natural. For it was the first snow of the season. And as any child can tell you, there’s a certain magic that comes with the very first snow, especially when it falls on the day before Christmas.

The children placed the top hat on the head of the snowman.

No one expected anything to happen, least of all the magician Hinkle. But with a flourish, the snowman came alive and said happily, “Happy Birthday!”

It’s difficult to judge what happens inside the mind of a sentient snowman. Perhaps Frosty saw his life flash before his eyes. Or perhaps he was overfilled with the Christmas spirit. Or perhaps the dark lord Baphomet, whose soul had been captured inside the hat by a wizard long ago, woke up from his ensorcelled sleep to find himself inside a crudely shaped, snow-based body with a group of defenseless children nearby.

The children watched in horror as Frosty placed his palms on the ground and began a ritualistic chant. An army of snow creatures rose from the ground and ripped the poor magician limb from limb. A spray of crimson covered the snow, bringing a festive hint of Christmas.

The snow army turned on the children and chased them down the street as Frosty sang:

Frosty the SnowmanHas a demon for a soulWith a corncob pipe and a button noseHe was imprisoned long agoFrosty the SnowmanMade the children scream and prayAnd were they surprised whenBefore their eyesA magician he did flayThere must have been some magicIn that old silk hat they foundFor when they placed it on his headHe summoned monsters from the groundFrosty the SnowmanWas alive as he could beAnd the children sayYou should run awayOr scream for eternity